Lost
by CheerfulChemist
Summary: This is a Con Man Story inspired by the location shots Con Man posted on Twitter. The plane Jack is flying himself & Wray to L.A. in crashes. Despite that, it is meant to be funny. The characters of Wray & Jack belong to Alan Tudyk but the inventions re Spectrum are mine. M for language.


Lost

A Con Man Story

"See Wray, with me as the pilot for a change, we did the con in Vegas and we'll be back in plenty of time to do the promo you wanted," Jack Moore announced proudly to his best friend. The little plane cut through the air easily toward the Hollywood Hills in the distance.

Wray could also see what else was in the distance, thick brown haze. "Damn Jack, this is what I hate about coming into L.A. in a small plane. I hate to be able to see what we're breathing, especially when it looks like that."

"Don't think about it," Jack advised. "It'll be gone when the wind shifts anyway. You know how things are this time of year." The little plane bounced as it hit a rough patch of air. "Looks like it may be changing now." Suddenly something hit the plane with a frightening clunk.

A string of dimly remembered Chinese curses spilled from Wray's brain and out his mouth. "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know," Jack gritted out as he fought the yoke. "Bird maybe."

"More like a flock of birds," Wray worried. "Are we okay Jack?"

"Sure," Jack assured him, "I just have to - oh no!"

Wray gripped the arms of his seat. "No oh no's! Oh no what, Jack?"

Jack desperately maneuvered the controls. "We've lost power and a lot of our steering, Wray. I need to put it down. If you see some nice flat open place, better tell me, and soon!"

"Jack, what are you talking about? We're in the hills! Not flat! Hills, tall and pointy."

"Just look!" Jack commanded, his voice a perfect echo of the captain he'd played on Spectrum.

Wray scanned the ground, spotting a patch of green that wasn't composed of trees. It was anything but flat, but it was open. "There Jack," he pointed.

The little plane descended too fast. Jack tried the best he could to bring it in smoothly, but the controls were unresponsive. The ground came up to slap the plane - hard. Wray put his hand on Jack's shoulder. "Hey Jack, are you alive?"

"Must be," Jack replied woozily. "My head wouldn't feel like this if I were dead. Unless I'm in hell. Of course if I was, you'd be there too. Are you dead Wray?"

"Only my career," Wray answered cynically. "C'mon Jack, let's get out of here before the plane blows up or something."

Wray grabbed Jack's arm as his friend stumbled unsteadily out of the plane. Pulling Jack far enough from the plane to escape an explosion, Wray looked for signs of civilization, as Jack sank to the ground, his head on his knees. "Stay with me Jack," Wray urged. "We're lost in the hills."

"Lost in the Hills," Jack repeated. "I guest starred on that. I was the ex-husband of the female lead. Lily? Damn that woman could make out!"

"Fuck, Jack!" Wray exclaimed. "You really are out of it." Wray pulled out his phone. "Shit no bars! You have any Jack?"

"Bar?" Jack mumbled. "I want rum, lots of rum - and a bottle of aspirin."

"Oh boy, never mind," Wray muttered, trying to reach into Jack's pocket for the latest technological marvel. Jack pushed his hand way. "Love you buddy, but I don't swing that way."

Wray blew his breath out in frustration. "Oh for God's sake, Jack. Just give me your phone!"

Jack handed his phone to Wray and pressed his palms to the sides of his head. "Jeez Wray, you don't have to shout."

Wray stared at the device in disgust. "It doesn't matter. You don't have any either. We need to start walking, man." Wray extended his hand. "Can you get up?"

"Shouldn't go," Jack objected, suddenly lucid. "Sent out a distress call as the radio was cutting out. Might have gotten through. Should stay with the plane."

"Seriously, Jack?" Wray asked.

Jack nodded before grabbing his head.

The sun was sinking and with it the temperature. "I'm freezing Jack," Wray grumbled.

Jack rubbed his temples. "Wray, if the plane hasn't exploded yet, unlike my head, it's not going to. Our suitcases are on there, with our official, licensed, Spectrum jackets. Maybe you could get them?"

"Right," Wray agreed, "and Spectrum cookies, Spectrum chocolate, and that Spectrum cake. We're not gonna starve."

"Knock yourself out Wray," Jack told him. "I'd settle for the bottle of pain pills from the first aid kit."

"Jack you think you should?" Wray wondered. "I mean what if you have a concussion or something? You shouldn't mask symptoms."

Jack caught Wray with a look he'd reserved for the face of Spectrum's captain before he put a raider through a wall. "Wray, get those damn pills or I swear by P.J. Haarsma creator of all rings, you'll have symptoms to mask."

"Fine," Wray conceded, "just don't blame me if your brains turn to jello."

"Someone's brain's already turned to jello," Jack muttered as Wray headed for the plane.

Wray returned, struggling under the weight of their luggage and convention swag. Dropping the bags, he pulled a bottle out of his pocket and tossed it to Jack. He pulled a bottle of water out of his other pocket and tossed that too. "Don't say I never brought you anything."

Jack downed a couple of tablets. "Thanks Wray."

Wray held up a book of matches. "These were in the first aid kit too. We can make a fire."

"You know how to do that?" Jack asked doubtfully.

Wray squared his shoulders. "Are you kidding? I was an Eagle Scout, right before I got into Julliard."

Jack sighed at the millionth mention of the Wray's prestigious alma mater. "That's good Wray, but it hasn't rained in months. Just don't set the hills on fire."

"Eagle Scout," Wray repeated huffily. "I know what I'm doing." After much effort, Wray got a small blaze going and bent over the tiny flames, feeding in twigs and pine cones to keep them burning.

"Hey Wray," Jack asked, "do you hear that? It's the Spectrum theme."

Wray looked up from his sputtering enterprise with concern."I think you're having auditory hallucinations Jack. Maybe I should look in your eyes or something."

"No really," Jack insisted. "Listen."

The dark and quirky words were a whisper on the night air. "You're right!" he exclaimed. "Hey!" he yelled. "We're here, over here!"

Jack could see flashlight beams headed in their direction and added his voice to Wray's. The beams came closer. "Hey!" a voice shouted. "Don't you know you can't have a fire here? There's a humongous fine if the Rangers catch you..." Jack shielded his eyes as a light shined in his face. "It's him! It's the captain - and Pilot! I saw a tweet that you guys hadn't shown for a shoot, but I never thought..."

"Wait, a tweet, you have a signal?" Wray asked.

"No one stops our signal," the fan replied proudly, "but not a cell signal, wi fi. We have a satellite at the lodge."

"What lodge?" Jack queried.

"Pine Mantle Lodge, 'bout a quarter mile into the woods. We're having our Speckie Spectacular there. We were just doing the Green Planet hike. When everyone sees you they'll die!" the fan answered excitedly.

Jack got gingerly to his feet. "Can't disappoint the fans, lead the way."

Willing fan hands grabbed Wray's and Jack's things and they navigated the rough trail to the lodge. Jack sank down wearily on a rustic couch in the great room, his still aching head in his hands. A woman in the filmy and sexily slinky costume of a ship's nurturer came to Jack's side. "I'm Mira. Are you all right? I actually am a doctor."

Jack lifted his head to gaze at her, his ability to appreciate the view not completely lost. "I don't know. My head hit the yoke when I landed the plane."

Cupping his face in her hands she looked in his eyes. "Your pupils are uneven. You are probably concussed. We can get you down to the city in the morning, but I can watch you tonight."

"I bet she can," Wray muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. "Even in the middle of the woods the beautiful women find him."

A teenager dressed as Pilot approached Wray. "I'm your biggest fan, Mr. Nerely. We're having our Spectrum trivia tournament. We'd be honored if you'd officiate."

Wray couldn't help smiling at the puppy dog enthusiasm. "Sure kid. My pleasure."

The tournament lasted until the wee hours of the morning. Wray was more than a little proud to see his young admirer emerge triumphant. He climbed into a spare bunk bed in the men's quarters to catch a few hours of sleep before the trip down the mountain.

Jack had been shown to a private room with a king sized bed. Mira dozed in a chair beside him, checking on him every couple of hours.

After a celebratory Speckie breakfast, Jack and Wray were ushered into a van with Mira, now in street clothes, in attendance. Mira insisted Jack be taken to the nearest hospital to be checked out and settled him in emergency with Wray in the waiting room with all the luggage. "Jack should be fine. I have to go back," she explained to Wray. "I'm the medic for the whole Spectacular. You tell Jack I said goodbye and give him this, okay?" she requested, pressing a card into Wray's hand.

"Sure," Wray agreed and watched as the gently undulating hips retreated through the door. "Someday some beautiful nurturer is going to come after me," Wray thought wistfully, tucking the card into his pocket.

No sooner had he thought it than a vision came rushing toward the waiting room. Mr. Nerely," she called from the end of a long hallway. She was tall and slim, with a yard of silky blond hair and a uniform that disguised none of her perfect lines.

Wray turned his eyes skyward in thanks. She grew more beautiful as she approached. Unfortunately she also grew younger. Wray read the badge on her snug top: "Moira Raines, Junior Volunteer."

Mr. Nerely, I heard you were here and I just had to meet you. I'm your biggest fan, really. I've seen all the Spectrums at least twenty times, probably a hundred. And I just love Pilot, you're my hero. Could you, I mean if it's not too much trouble, could we take a selfie? All my tweeps will die."

Wray gazed into the hopeful face. "Of course. But don't kill off my fans. I need every one of them." He took her phone and snapped the picture. Moira bounced happily away, already tweeting. Wray turned his eyes upward again. "I know that's what I asked for, but could you send one a little older next time? By at least a decade, maybe two?" Wray watched the still bouncing figure disappear at the end of the corridor. "Oh well, maybe she'll still love me when she grows up - or introduce me to her newly single mother. A man can dream." He stretched out in his chair and closed his eyes to wait, as always, for his captain.


End file.
